Chapter Twenty-Five
Riley had been coming to this annual event since she was a baby.
The earliest time she truly remembered was when she was about four, the first time she’d put all of it together in her mind, and knew going to that place in front of the library—a place she already knew well at four—meant the big tree beside it was going to explode into beautiful lights of all colors.
She remembered sitting on her dad’s shoulders, looking out over the sea of people singing Christmas songs, waiting for that moment when the towering shadow that was the tree became a brilliantly lit symbol of the season.
The details shifted a little depending on various things, but overall the ceremony never really changed much, which was one of the things she loved about it.
They’d spent an hour watching the parade, being jostled by the crowd, and she told herself that was why he hung on to her hand, so they wouldn’t get separated and lost in the throng.
She’d explained each float, lingering especially on the one Ariel Rafferty had designed to promote They Also Serve and the dogs they helped.
That she got the reticent and reserved Chance Rafferty to ride on the thing with her, with the dog who had brought them together between them, was a small miracle.
It gave Riley a warm feeling that suited the occasion.
And loved the surprise on Miles’s face when he realized his friend Tucker was leading the group of rodeo riders that followed them.
“At least he’s on a horse, not a bull,” she teased, and loved the laugh that got her. It must be the mood of the season that had her so…revved up.
When the parade ended, they headed back to her SUV to move it closer to the library and the tree lighting.
All too aware of the man in the passenger seat, she parked next to the small maintenance building in the city park that took up the block between the square and the elementary and middle schools.
It was a spot most people didn’t think about in the Christmas rush and so had always been empty since she’d had the thought of using it for this.
It put them only a half a block away, and the moment she opened the driver’s door the sound of singing washed over her.
Curious, she watched Miles as he got out. She saw his head snap around and then he went still as a powerful, beautiful male voice hit the chorus of a familiar Christmas carol.
“Is that…live?” he asked, still fixated on the sound, not even looking at her. She liked that, for some reason. Like it was proof he knew what was important, which was silly because he certainly didn’t get where he was by not already realizing that.
“Yes,” she said. “That’s Kane.”
He did look at her then. “The other Highwater brother? The one who was missing all those years? Nic told me about him.”
She nodded as she came around the front of the SUV to stand beside him.
“And while now he’s a big success, after he first got home, he wouldn’t perform in public at all, let alone at something where the whole town turns out.
But Minna handled that. She got word that he wasn’t comfortable singing in public back then, so she ordered him to do it. ”
“Ordered?” he asked as they started walking toward the crowd.
“Once you meet her, you’ll understand.”
She tried not to think of the inevitable, the change that was coming, but it hovered and it was painful. She tried to smother it, but her eyes stung as she tried to blink away the moisture.
To her surprise—and she had to admit her pleasure—he put an arm around her. “She’s been running this as long as you’ve been alive, hasn’t she?” She nodded. “No wonder you’re wound up. The thought of this being the last time for her must be painful.”
She looked up at him. For a moment she couldn’t speak, because she never would have expected him to understand.
She’d been teasing him about having what it took to become a real Last Stander, but she had the feeling she’d been more right than she’d known.
That he really did have it in him, that kind of perception and understanding.
He might not have the connections yet, but maybe…
And he kept his arm around her.
They reached the edge of the crowd. They could see the raised stage that had been temporarily erected in front of the tree, as it was every year.
Kane shifted the feeling of the entire gathering by switching to a song he’d written for this event that first year Minna had pressured him into doing it.
It was deep, resounding, and in the end soaring, a tale of the actual Last Stand, and the town that had been built by the survivors upon the sacrifice of those heroes.
And when he hit the chorus, many in the crowd joined him.
Sometimes you don’t have to win
Sometimes all you have to do is last
Until you can move on
But don’t forget the past.
When the resounding applause died away, Kane paused, then spoke into the mic.
“Y’all know I’ve had my moments. Years on the road, running, when all the time home was still here—I just didn’t know it.
” He paused as applause swelled again, but he waved it down.
“Now I want to welcome the person who convinced me I could find a bit more of that home again if I just got up here and faced it. I owe her for that. So Minna Herdmann, tell that brother of mine to get you on up here.”
“It’s so good to hear him call Shane his brother,” she murmured just as the tall, strong man carried the fragile centenarian up the few steps to the stage.
She felt a harsh tug inside, because this was the first time Minna hadn’t been able to manage the rather steep steps herself, albeit with Shane at her side.
But she was waving at the crowd energetically, and Riley let herself believe the amazing woman wasn’t quite done yet.
The chief set her down in front of the microphone Kane had replaced on the stand, carefully lowering it to the tiny woman’s height.
As she grasped it for balance, Kane gave her a gentle hug, and she patted him on the back.
She turned back to the mic, took a moment to steady herself, and a longer moment to look out over the crowd.
“Y’all know I’m not one to rattle on, so I’m going to say two things. Thank you for all the years you’ve allowed me the honor of this.” She gestured at the still-dark tree. “And secondly, next year you be just as kind and welcoming to Maggie Rafferty. And that’s an order!”
A rousing cheer went up. The elderly lady turned to look at Shane Highwater, who had never moved out of reach, just in case—so very Highwater of him—who came up beside her holding a square box with a lever on top.
“Merry Christmas, Last Stand!” Minna exclaimed and pulled on the lever with a strong yank that made clear she wasn’t done for yet.
The tree exploded into lights of all colors, and a rousing cheer went up from all sides. It rolled on until Kane returned and took the mic. This time, standing with his arm safely around Minna, he led the crowd in a clearly heartfelt rendition of a classic Christmas hymn.
As it ended and people began to mill about, Riley looked up at Miles, saw the very intent look on his face as he watched Kane leave the stage. He seemed to sense it, because he shifted his gaze to her.
“Why was he on the run?”
“Long, painful story, involving the death of the previous Chief Highwater, and him feeling responsible. He ran for twelve years, from here to Alaska, before he realized it would never end until he came back and faced it all.” She smiled. “Hence those lyrics he wrote.”
Miles let out a compressed breath. “Wow.”
But there was something else in his eyes, something she thought she recognized now. That creative spark, she supposed. “Thinking it would make a good movie or series?”
“It’s got all the makings, and that’s only knowing the bare bones.”
“Only if you have Kane himself star in it,” she said, smiling.
Miles glanced at the man on the stage again. “He’s got the look, and the presence.”
“All those Highwater boys do,” she said.
That made his brows lower. As if he hadn’t liked that she’d said that. “Surprised you didn’t end up with one of them,” he muttered.
She couldn’t deny both his look and the sound of his voice when he said that made her heart give a little jump. “I’m too old for even Shane,” she said, wishing she hadn’t felt driven to remind him of that.
Miles moved suddenly then, grabbing her shoulders and turning her to face him.
“Stop it.” His expression was so intense it made her want to back away. But she didn’t. Couldn’t. “I,” he enunciated carefully, “do not give a damn how old you are. It doesn’t matter. Male and female genes the way they are, you’ll probably outlive me anyway.”
She stared at him. He was thinking about which of them would outlive the other? As if…as if they’d be together that long?
As if they were together now?
And then, with a sudden move she couldn’t have dodged even if she’d wanted to, he was kissing her.
Long and hard and deep, tasting, probing, until she felt as Minna must have felt, a little weak in the knees and needing that strong, powerful man beside her to keep her upright.
It was dizzying, yet never had she felt so on fire, never had her blood been pumping at this rate, even when she was on the last barrel of a prize-winning run.
When he broke the kiss at last, he pulled his head back to look at her but still held her close.
“That clear enough?” he asked, his voice low and almost hoarse.
He sounded like she felt. Almost desperate.
And that quickly, all her resistance crumbled.
She’d been alone so long, she’d managed to shove needs like this into the background.
She always told herself it didn’t matter, she had enough in life, more than many did.
But with that kiss he’d shattered the wall she’d built between herself and feelings like he roused in her. The need he somehow roused in her.
Not need. Necessity.
“Clear enough,” she agreed, and there was a note in her own voice that even she didn’t recognize.
“Then it’s up to you what happens next.”
And she knew he meant it. That if she backed out even now, he wouldn’t fight her. He wouldn’t try any cajoling, any false promises, wouldn’t say anything he didn’t truly mean. How she was so sure of this she didn’t know, but she was.
And that was all she needed.
“Anyone ever warn you about the Last Stand grapevine?”
His brows furrowed slightly in puzzlement, as if he wasn’t sure how this related.
Or thinks you’re heading toward saying no because of that grapevine.
“Jackson said it outdoes anything in Hollywood, and out-speeds any broadband,” he said after a moment.
“It does. And I don’t really want to start that daisy chain chattering—not yet. It’ll get back to my dad and he’ll run with it.” He was staring at her now, and she didn’t blame him. “Look, I know I’m too old to be worrying about what my father thinks, but I do.”
“I’ll let the too old bit pass this time,” he said, “because he’s the rock of your life and you don’t mess with that.”
What little resistance was left in her melted. He’d put into five simple words what her father was to her. The rock of her life. Her throat was so tight she couldn’t speak.
“So…was that a ‘this ends here’?” he asked, very carefully.
“No!” She startled herself with the energy of her response. “Just the here part needs to end.” She waved toward the crowd around them. “With the whole town watching.”
She knew she wasn’t mistaking the relief in his expression when slowly, a delightful smile lifted one corner of his mouth. That lovely, kissable mouth. “Now that you mention it, I’m not sure I want Jackson—or more accurately, Nic—having this fodder tossed to her. She’s already on a campaign.”
“Exactly.”
“So where do we sneak to?”
She laughed, and she felt the difference in it, the lightness, the anticipation, the…excitement.
“Ever been by the Hickory Creek Inn?”
“Is that the place run by the former Texas Ranger?”
She nodded. “Frank Buckley, and his wife Karina. We could go there. Frank is the soul of discretion.”
“Won’t they be full this week?”
“Yes. But they always keep a room open for locals who might have…an emergency and need a place.”
His voice took on that hoarse note again. “Oh, this qualifies as an emergency in my book.”
“Mine, too,” she whispered. And meant it. Because no matter what did or didn’t happen later, right now there was absolutely nothing she wanted more than this man.